Whose are You?

“Meaningless! Meaningless! Utterly meaningless. Everything in meaningless, said King Solomon, the wisest man in the world. (Ecclesiastes 1-2)

I have been reading through the Patriarchs of the Old Testament- you have probably heard their names read aloud or said in a very serious or perhaps very charismatic prayer. “The God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob…” Interestingly, none of them were men you would particularly want your son(s) to emulate in many areas of life. However, just after Jacob came his son, Joseph, the one with the technicolor coat, and it was Joseph who was honorable.

Joseph always made the honorable choice. Yet, he was sold into slavery by his brothers, seduced and wrongly accused by his bosses’ wife and forgotten in prison for several years. Still, he rises to the occasion and eventually turns Egypt into the wealthiest nation around. (If you were born after 1985 and didn’t get to see the flannel graph version in Sunday school check out the story in Genesis 37-50).

Like most people, Joseph eventually died and the very first chapter of the very next book of the Bible, Exodus, begins with this:

“Then a new king, who did now know about Joseph, came to power in Egypt…” (Ex 1:8)

Immediately, the Israelites, Joseph’s people are put into slavery. The years of Joseph’s hard work, the years of honorable decisions and integrity are forgotten- meaningless.

I have been reading and considering this for the past several weeks. Those who know me well know my absolutely love for what I do, my “work.” Really, can there be too much time, too much energy put into rescuing and raising orphaned children? I never would have thought so. As a result, I stretch every hour- no, every minute, to pack in the most, to check off, to complete, and to be the most efficient. Our Dominican pastora, Malou, calls me a “good little gringa.”

Western culture has engrained in us “Carpe Diem,” or seize the day! Capture every moment. Rid your work place, your home and yourself of any “dead space.” Yet, the reality is I am seized, I am captured and my spirit is dying.

For 20 minutes this afternoon I took a cup of tea and stood overlooking the Olympic Mountains from Poulsbo, Washington. I stood silent and let the brisk Northwest air mix with the sun and hit my face. I listened to my own breath. I listened to the clanging and dinging of the sail boat masts and other marina noises.

It’s amazing how silence can be the very grounds from which we learn to be humble and watchful, from which we are reminded that very little is about us. Silence can “break our addiction to self-absorption and self-avoidance.”

Silence for the sake of silence still qualifies as meaningless to me. However, silence for the sake of allowing God to speak, to reveal, or to just be is anything but meaningless. It is the point in which something we deem to empty becomes so full. It is the point in which we see ourselves most honestly- “not in light of who we are, but in light of whose we are” (Isaac Hunter).

Twenty minutes of silence reassured me of the truthful answer for the question of meaning, for purpose, in my life.

Joseph and his many successes were forgotten. However, nearly 450 years later he is remembered. Moses remembers Joseph’s faith in God to come to the aid of the Israelites and bring them out of Egypt. Per Joseph’s request over 400 years earlier, his bones are taken out of Egypt.

At age 28, I continue to grow in my understanding that my meaning is not found in what I do; rather, it is wholly and completely found in whose I am. And, more than often it takes moments or hours or days of silence and solitude to once again grasp that reality.

Out of Solitude by Henri Nouwen
The Practice of the Presence of God by Brother Lawrence